


Something New

by 1001cranes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wedding Planner, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Pre-Poly, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/pseuds/1001cranes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm your wedding planner, but i’m also falling in love with you” - the bonus Derek/Stiles/Allison remix</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzzylu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/gifts).



> is this the most cliche title ever you bet your sweet ass it is

When Derek’s phone starts blasting _Loser_ , he rolls his eyes towards the ceiling and prays for strength. History has shown that absolutely nothing good can come from his sister calling him before noon, or possibly ever.

”Hey,” Cora says, and barrels on before Derek has a chance to say anything. “Some of Erica’s friends are looking for a wedding planner. Can you meet them Thursday morning?”

"Did you already tell them I would meet them?"

"I told them I thought eleven would work," Cora says, because she inherited Uncle Peter’s complete lack of shame.

Derek sighs. “Eleven is fine. Dot’s Coffee on Sixth Street.”

"Awesome. Stiles and Allison—"

”Stiles?”

Cora ignores him. “They both loved Erica’s wedding, and Allison’s family has a ton of money. So put your charming face on until we get a deposit and then you can be as grumpy as you want.”

"Not going to beg for the friend discount?" Derek asks dryly. He isn't grumpy.

"They’re not my friends,” Cora says, and hangs up.

* * *

 

Allison is already at the coffee shop when Derek arrives. She’s wearing a bright red sweater and jeans, dark brown hair carefully curled. She has a strong handshake - with somewhat odd calluses, Derek notes - and she insists on buying his coffee.

"Don’t worry," she says, and flashes a dazzling smile. "Cora told us about your initial fee too."

Derek finds himself unusually charmed. “She’s very mercenary, but I can probably waive that for a friend of a friend,” he finds himself saying.

Her smile grows wider, and Derek finds himself smiling back. _Oh_ , he thinks, or maybe starts to think, _oh shit_ , but is saved from the full force of the lightning strike when Stiles walks in.

"Hey," he says. He’s wearing red, like Allison, and they have nearly the same pale skin and dark hair. A cute couple, Derek thinks, as Stiles swoops down to peck Allison on the cheek. Maybe the cutest he’s seen in a while. But where Allison is calm and controlled, Stiles already gives off a nearly frenetic energy. "Sorry I’m… almost… late?" He squints at his phone. "Never mind, wow, I’m not late. I’m right on time, forget it."

"This is my charming fiancee," Allison says, dryly. "Stiles, this is Derek, please try not to scare him."

"I already ran one wedding planner off," Stiles says. He seems almost proud of it. "But she seemed to love organza, like, an unhealthy amount, so I think we dodged a bullet."

"I’ll… keep that in mind."

Stiles shrugs out of his hoodie and throws it over the back of the third chair. “I’m going to have grab a coffee before we get this party started. You two keep talking!”

"Decaf!" Allison calls after him.

"You don’t own me yet, woman!" Stiles yells back. The barista at the counter looks unimpressed.

* * *

 

They spend the first half hour or so chitchatting. Derek liked getting a feel for the people he was going to help; Cora called it his weird voyeuristic streak. It seems like Allison worked for her family’s business and traveled a lot, while Stiles’s job with the Sheriff’s Department made his schedule unpredictable.

"The idea of having to plan a wedding on top of it all is just… exhausting," Allison admits, her cheeks pinking a little. "I’m sure we could do it, but -“

"It really is another job," Derek says, matter-of-fact. "And I’m not just saying that so you’ll pay me."

Stiles snorts, and Allison discreetly elbowed him in the side.

Derek smiles. “I’ve heard worse. You’re right, you could do it, but you don’t have to. Laura - my other sister - is better at the numbers spiel, but the cost of a wedding planner is typically only a fraction of the cost of the overall wedding. My fee depends on how much you want from me. You can give me a few pictures from wedding magazines and literally only show up for your dress and tuxedo fittings. Or you can micromanage every single detail down to the color of the napkins while I take care of all the annoying phone calls and paperwork. Or anywhere in between.”

Stiles and Allison glance at one another. “I think we’re going for in between,” Allison says after a moment. “I mean, we have an idea —”

”Sort of an idea. Allison nixed having a superhero wedding, so —”

"No superheroes!"

"—I think what we need is a little handholding? At least in the beginning. Or like, choices. Show us what’s out there. We really liked Erica’s wedding, but was a little… much."

"Erica is a little much," Derek says wryly. When he’d met Erica - all five and a half feet of the leather-wearing blonde bombshell in heels that she was - he’d braced himself for arranging a terrible theme wedding. Instead, Erica’s instructions had been more along the lines of "I’m a motherfucking princess who landed a motherfucker prince, and I’ve got a lot of hate invitations rub people’s noses in. Make it happen."

Derek had ended up really liking Erica.

"Don’t get me wrong," he quickly adds, because he is, generally, a professional. "I love Erica to death, but —"

"We met Erica at a neon rave she’d organized to fundraise for her college rugby team," Allison says. "I think she propositioned us."

"Erica is going to be one of my grooms-people!" Stiles says brightly. "Just to keep that in mind."

* * *

 

In the end, the rest of the meeting manages to be slightly more professional. Derek walks Allison and Stiles through his portfolio of previous weddings, as well as a look-book of trends and other things they might want to consider. Derek gives them the sheet Laura pulled together for general pricing, and her number.

"My schedule for next fall is fairly open right now," Derek tells them. Sticking to the general Beacon Hills area means Derek is only ever overbooked for summer, if he’s being honest. "But the farther ahead you can plan weddings the better, whether you end up choosing me or not, okay?"

"Okay," Allison says, and surprises him with a quick hug. "Thank you so much, Derek."

"Thanks, dude," Stiles says, and goes for a handshake and quick backslap. "We’re supposed to be meeting someone else on Friday, so I think we’ll let you know either way after that?"

Next to him, Allison nods. They walk out of the coffeeshop hand in hand, and briefly say something to one another outside the door before walking off in opposite directions.

A really cute couple, Derek decides, and busies himself with putting all the paperwork back into his bag.

* * *

 

If Derek were one of those people who was good at honest self-reflection - spoiler alert, he’s not - he might have realized what was happening at that first meeting. But love always seems to catch Derek more off-guard than anyone else. He’s doesn’t see it coming; not one clue, not one hint, and then WHAM! He’s been blindsided, he’s stunned and waiting for on-coming headlights.

* * *

 

 _congrats_ , Cora texts him on Sunday, y _ou have successfully fooled another couple into thinking you posses a single romantic bone in your entire body_

 _I am great at organizing events,_ Derek texts back, because his romantic history is a family joke he tries to avoid at all costs. That he ended up planning weddings for a living when he can't even form a functional relationship himself is probably one of life's great ironies.

_whatever. can you meet Stiles and Allison for lunch. noon. either Tuesday or Wednesday?_

_Wednesday is fine._

Derek carefully writes the date down in his planner.

* * *

 

In what Derek is going to guess will become a pattern, Allison is already waiting at the restaurant when he gets there.

"Hi!" she says, and stands to pull him into a hug. "Stiles texted that he was on his way, but he’s probably lying. It’s sort of his thing."

"That’s fine," Derek says, and takes his seat once Allison does. "We can get started without him. From our first meeting it seemed like you’d be doing most of the decision-making."

Allison raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m the bride?”

Derek ducks his head to hide his smile. “Partly.” Not to make sweeping generalizations, but brides were generally more interested than the grooms except, possibly, choosing the cake flavor. ”But you also seemed… like you made the decisions. Stiles talks a lot, and asks a lot of questions, but he looks to you for the answers.”

There's a moment where Allison doesn’t say anything, and Derek cringes a little. He can’t seem to stop putting his foot in his mouth around this couple, and he doesn’t know why. He's naturally a bit gruff and short-tempered, but he's been at this job for almost a decade now, he knows how to be professional. 

"Sorry—" he starts to apologize, and Allison cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

"No. No, it’s fine." She’s looking at him more shrewdly now. "You’re right, is the thing. I think most people get distracted by Stiles’s… everything."

"There’s a lot happening there," Derek says, dry, and Allison’s smile breaks back out again.

"There is. That’s what I like about him, you know? He never - " She looks down at her menu. "My parents moved a lot when I was younger, and I got really good at being The New Girl. I used to… I don’t know, do recon before my first day, and show up looking and acting perfect. I made friends with the most popular people in school because I’d always have somewhere to sit at lunch, but then I wouldn’t really miss them once I’d moved.”

"Sounds lonely," Derek says, and when Allison looks up something in her eyes is almost steely.

"It was," she says, "It was. I spent a long time not being myself. And Stiles - I don’t think Stiles could not be himself for the world, however annoying most of the world might find it.” She tilts her head. “Everything I ever thought was weird about me Stiles thinks is cool. I wasn’t - I would never say I was half a person before I met Stiles, but I did keep that person pretty well hidden.”

The moment breaks when Stiles bursts through the door in a flurry of plaid and cold air, and nearly throws himself into the chair.

"I know, I know, I’m late—"

"It’s alright," Derek says.

"I ordered you the turkey club panini," Allison adds, and Stiles beams at them both.

* * *

 

It’s a productive second meeting. Derek manages to narrow down Stiles and Allison’s choices: fairly traditional, a little modern, not interested in themes, probably indoors rather than outdoors - “So many pollen allergies,” Stiles says mournfully - preferably a live band instead of a DJ, the ceremony and reception in the same place or very close to one another. Derek writes and writes and writes, and then tells them to mock up a guest list for the next meeting.

"I know it seems too early," Derek explains, "And it is too early to send out the invitations, but we don’t want to estimate a hundred guests, book the party space, and then realize down the line we’re looking at more like two hundred.”

"Disaster?" Stiles asks, and makes jazz hands.

Derek can feel the corner of his mouth lift. “Disaster. Once we have a better idea of size I’ll send you a list of possible venues.”

"Perfect," Allison says, right as Stiles starts to swear.

"Shit. Not - that, that sounds good, but I am way past my lunch hour. Damn.”

"I’ve got it," Allison says, when Stiles starts to fumble for his wallet. "Get back to work before you give your dad an ulcer."

"You know I’m _at least_ ten years too late for that one,” Stiles murmurs, and leans over to kiss Allison goodbye. Derek can’t put his finger on why it feels weirdly voyeuristic to be sitting next to them when it happens.

"Bye, Derek!" Stiles yells over his shoulder, still pulling his jacket on when he rushes out the door.

Derek looks down at his planner, and Allison smiles serenely. “One of the benefits of working for a family business - as long as there are no deadlines looming, lunch can be as long as I want.”

* * *

 

Derek orders coffee and Allison gets a chocolate gateau with raspberries she bullies him into trying while they talk about wedding colors. It’s nice, Derek decides, which is kind of a surprise, and when Allison nudges the dessert plate towards him he takes another bite.

Derek doesn’t always like the couples he works for. That's not really a reactive statement - it's pretty much the nature of the beast in any service industry. He doesn't have to like them, but its nice when he does. There are plenty of couples Derek watches take the walk down the aisle while blinking back Proud Mom Tears - shut up, Cora - and who send him beautiful thank you cards or bottles of wine or a twelve month subscription to Meat!: The Man Club - thank you, Erica. He’s just never gotten this close to a couple this fast. He’s never at ‘friendly’ by the second meeting - frankly, Derek is slow to hit ‘friendly’ when it comes to anyone. 

"I don’t think the wedding parties will be too large," Allison continues. "I only want my best friend Lydia, my friend Kira, and Boyd - Erica’s Boyd, you know. Then Stiles has his best friend Scott, and Erica, and his work wife, Parrish.”

"Work... wife?" Derek echoes softly, and Allison laughs at the look on his face.

"Work wife is entirely Stiles’s term, not mine, I just… roll with it.” Allison catches the waiter’s eye and gestures for the check. “Parrish thinks its hilarious, for some reason.”

* * *

 

_Hi Derek!_

_First round guest list is attached. There are a large number of Argents and Brisbois (Brisboises???) near the top of the list, but since they all live in France we don’t really expect them to come, it’s all polite invitations. Thank God. More than three Argents in a room would probably cause some kind of explosion. Wait until you meet Allison’s parents - forewarned, forearmed, all that. You’re welcome._

_-Stiles_

 

_Stiles,_

_Thank for the list. Does this list include significant others, and/or do you want to offer plus-ones to anyone on the list? Discounting most-to-all of the Argents and Brisbois - please tell me you took Spanish in High School - a good rule of thumb is that about 75% of invited guests will show up to a wedding, and I’d like to have a sightly more solid number._

_Best,_  
_Derek_

 

_Derek,_

_Allison and I redid the list. We put couples together, and then we doled out a couple plus-ones for our faves. Most of our friends are already paired up anyway!_

_I did take Spanish, but I also took AP Latin, and Basic ASL, and about a half semester of Japanese in college. Guess how well that went, haha_

_-Stiles_

 

_Derek,_

_Would it be possible to make sure the reception location definitely doesn’t have an open/full bar anywhere? Please don’t mention it around Stiles, but both our fathers have turned to alcohol in the past when the stress is on, and I’d rather we just not take the chance._

_Thanks, Allison_

 

_Allison,_

_Absolutely. I’ll make sure there’s no available bar._

_If you like, we can do a completely dry wedding, or just champagne for toasts, or have only wine with dinner, or serve just a signature cocktail or two. Cora knows a very good mixologist - she’ll invent you a ‘Stallison,’ if you like._

_Best,_  
_Derek_

 

_Allison,_

_Scratch that - we should not use the word ‘Stallison’ around Stiles._

_-Derek_

 

_Derek,_

_Thank you._

_I think either wine with dinner, or cocktails. No alcohol at all would raise too many eyebrows, I think. Please tell Cora I’d love to meet her mixologist friend!_

_But yes, definitely nix Stallison._

_-Ally_

 

_Stiles & Allison,_

_I’ve attached a list of possible locations for your wedding that have open dates nextfall. Almost all of them have websites, so if you could take a look at the choices and make a short list for me, we can start doing site visits._

_-D_

* * *

 

The tour of the first location takes about fifteen minutes.

After the quick tour, Allison and Stiles look at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

"It's kind of... country?"

"God, yes, we could have a hoedown," Stiles declares, and Derek tries to hide his smile behind a folder.

"I’ll cross it off the list," he says. Other clients have found it charming, but maybe its a little too old fashioned. He puts a question mark next to another two locations and strikes one right off the list.

The second and third locations get okays, but neither Stiles nor Allison appear particularly wowed, and one has a built-in bar. The owner assures Derek it can be locked up when he asks - "we've done Sweet Sixteens here recently!" - but Allison doesn’t looks thrilled.

"I’ve got plenty more places we can look at," he reminds them once they’re back into the car. "And that’s without getting particularly creative." Derek has contacts, and favors he can call in, push come to shove. California has plenty of state parks, and amazing restaurants. He's had clients get married at aquariums and museums and even a library.  "Now that we’ve started looking at places, can you think of anything you want to avoid? Look for?"

"Nothing that could possibly evoke the phrase ‘country western,’" Stiles says absentmindedly. "Can we stop at the Krispy Kreme on the highway?"

Derek meets Allison’s eyes in the review mirror.

 _If you can handle the sugar high_ , she seems to be saying, so Derek sighs out a yes.

* * *

 

Places four and five are Stiles-only, because Allison is stuck traveling for work.

"Is that okay?" he asks, when Allison calls to tell him she's flying out to Colorado. "If not, I'm sure we could push it back a few days."

Allison sighs. "I'm honestly not sure how long it will be. I'm going to scope things out, but its possible legal might have to be involved, and that could take _God knows_ how long." Something rustles in the background. "I trust Stiles to take a look at things, at least initially, and I trust you to make sure the logistics will all work out. 

"Okay," Derek says dubiously. "No other second opinion?"

"You are our second opinion," Allison says absently. "The cab is here, I have to go."

* * *

 

Location four is a larger banquet hall a half hour outside of town.

"They cater almost exclusively to weddings," Derek says. "They have everything you could ever possibly need. Fireplace, projection screen, speaker system for the band as well as a front stage with a lighted wall, a cake gazebo, the works."

"It's nice," Stiles says. "But kind of... soulless."

Derek honestly agrees with him. This place is a well-oiled wedding business machine, and while that makes part of Derek's job easier, there's also not a lot of leeway in what the couple wants to happen on the big day.

"They have on-site catering," he continues, "and the minimum plate count is a bit larger than we're expecting for your wedding. And unfortunately, the smaller rooms are pretty much booked for your targeted time."

"Go big or go home, huh," Stiles says ruefully. "I like it better than the others. Like, the _style_ seems right _,_  but it's a bit much. I don't think Allison would like it either?" He sounds a little unsure, though.

"We won't cross it off the list just yet."

Stiles sighs before pulling his shoulders back, like a soldier about to do battle. "I'm going to take some pictures for Ally. How long until we see the next place?" 

Derek pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. "We should go... soonish."

"Very specific," Stiles says, iPhone clicking, and elbows Derek in between taking pictures. "Is this the kind of professionalism we can expect from Hale Weddings, Incorporated?" 

"I'm telling Allison you were mean," Derek says bluntly, and starts texting nonsense on his phone just to worry Stiles a little.

* * *

 

They're on Interstate 5 and heading back to Beacon Hills when Derek decides to dive in. 

"Is there someone else you want to have meet us at the next venue?" Derek asks. "Maybe... one of your parents? Or a friend?" This could be a loaded question; Derek isn't sure. Allison talks about her family mainly in connection to her work and while Stiles's relationship with his father seems good, Derek also hasn't seen hide nor hair of either side of the family since the wedding planning began. He's not a huge fan of when the entire wedding party gets dragged around with the bride and groom, but usually there's  _someone_. 

Luckily, Stiles doesn't seem upset. "Weeeeellll, Scott - Scott McCall, my best friend, my best man! - is currently doing his Doctors Without Borders thing in Bolivia. Plus he'd totally want one of those charming outside weddings with three thousand tons of flowers, probably, so I'm not sure his taste counts. And my dad is on-duty today and his schedule is pretty much always for shit. Did you know he had to cancel his first dinner with me and Allison three times, and then he pulled her over for speeding like, a week later?”

"No Stiles, I definitely have heard all about your and Allison’s romantic history," Derek says dryly, and Stiles punches him in the shoulder. Derek lets the car weave a little on the road just to hear Stiles's shriek.

"You  _jerk_ ," he yells, and Derek definitely does not smirk. "And Lydia is like. Oh man. She’s so Type A. She probably would have planned the wedding for free, but I think Allison and I would both have liked to actually have some input."

Not someone to ever introduce to Cora, then.

"Allison doesn’t really... do friends,” Stiles admits after a moment. “I mean - no stones thrown here, I didn't have more than one friend until _college,_ really. And Allison's family - they're military contractors, basically. And when she was a kid they moved around a lot. She’d moved twice already just in the year before I met her. We were in the tenth grade.” The smile on Stiles’s face is soft. It’s an In Love smile, Derek thinks, the kind you couldn’t keep off your face if you tried, or so it had always seemed to him. “She was a year older - she’d been held back, you know, from having to switch schools all the time? She was so upset about it. I told her dating older women was cool.”

Derek snorts.

"Yeah, that was pretty much her reaction." Stiles’s smile is a full-on grin now. "I was not smooth in high school. I mean, I’m not smooth now, but Allison has beaten me into a relatively decent man-shape at this point.”

There’s actually a lot Derek could say to that, and none of it is particularly appropriate for someone at work. Fuck.

”Anyway,” Stiles continues. “You’re our second opinion, man! Allison totally trusts you. I trust you. I mean, if we decide this place is the one, Allison can take a look at it in a couple of days, right?”

"Probably," Derek says, on auto-pilot. "Though you really want to put a deposit down as soon as you can."

 

 

* * *

 

Location five is the rooftop of a restaurant, and it gets a perplexed yes.

"I think it's perfect?" Stiles says. "I mean. Derek, is it perfect, right? It's gorgeous." He's already got his phone back out of his pocket to take a video. "They do weddings here?"

Derek smiles. "They do. Only smaller ones, obviously, but based on your guest list I don't think we'll have a problem."

"You can see to the _ocean_ ," Stiles says, almost accusingly. He's got his phone out in front of his face, tilted out over the railing. "The ocean!" 

"They don't do as much in-house as some of the other venues," Derek continues. "We'll have to coordinate with the kitchen to see if they can handle the food or bring in a caterer, we'll have to bring in a cake, someone to officiate the wedding, all of it." The bar itself, luckily, is completely unstocked for security and insurance reasons when there aren't events scheduled, and they'll just keep it that way for the wedding.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

One text message from Allison Argent: I _hear you found us a wedding venue._

 _If your fiancee doesn't fall off the roof_ , he texts back, and listens to Stiles ask about lights, and space for a band, and how much for the deposit. 

* * *

Derek wakes up on Saturday morning to a bunch of text messages sent between two and three in the morning:

He gets: 

_ur a rockstar_

_srsly the best_

_ur our favorite!!!! hot eyebrow favorite!!_

-from Stiles, and then another two from Allison:

_Sorry for the texts, Stiles doesn't always text responsibly._

_He's right though. Definitely our favorite._

Derek takes a deep, deep breath.

 _Don't worry_ , he texts back to Allison, because that seems safer than texting Stiles, somehow. Plus he's probably hungover.  _You're my favorites too._

Just probably not in the way they should be.

* * *

Derek should have seen this coming - if not by the end of the first meeting, than at least the second. Allison is almost precisely Derek’s type; he can admit that. A strong brunette with a sweet smile and a lurking, wicked sense of humor? Not exactly coming out of left field, unlike Stiles, loud and mouthy and male, which is more Derek’s once-in-a-while than a daily occurrence. But, well - Derek likes them. He likes them together. He likes the way they fit.

Though Derek's never had a crush on client before. That probably sounds like a total goddamn lie considering he’s managed to fall for two all of a sudden, but its the truth. Derek falls in love rarely, but when he does its fast and hard and it has never once ended well. The list goes: died, incarcerated, died, broke his heart in the middle of the Purvanchal Mountain Range. Okay, comparatively, sure, the last one was not so bad. But still. 

He is _so_ screwed.

* * *

 

There's complete radio silence until Wednesday morning, which really suits Derek just fine. He needs plenty of time to brood and stew and avoid his family, who have a sixth sense for knowing exactly when he's in emotional turmoil and are _really_ great at fanning the flames.

 _Lunch at Dot's?_ Allison asks.

Derek texts back,  _sure, noon?_

He doesn't think anything of it, perhaps deliberately, until he gets there and Stiles and Allison greet him with hugs, and nervous smiles.

"So. What’s up?" he asks, draping his coat over the back of his chair. "I didn’t think we were meeting until Saturday."

"Uhhhhh," Stiles says, "Yeah, about that,” his voice pitching upwards, and the bottom drops out of Derek’s stomach.

Derek has seen couples get cold feet before. Sometimes early on, sometimes right before they’re due to walk down the aisle. Right before putting down a deposit on the venue is pretty textbook. And while it's usually just nerves, sometimes it's not. Sometimes the bride or groom is being pressured by their parents, or because they think they’re getting too old and want a family, or because their fiancee is the kind of person they always saw themselves marrying, even if maybe they never examined why.

"Are you two - you’re not calling the wedding off, are you?" Derek’s not saying he wouldn’t believe love wasn’t real anymore, but he really likes Stiles and Alison together.

They both say ‘no’ nearly simultaneously, and Derek breathes a little easier when Stiles gropes for Allison’s hand.

"Allison and I are still very, uh, committed. To each other."

"That’s good to hear," Derek says, maybe a shade too late, but that seemed neutral enough. "Is there a problem with…" Oh god, had he been obvious? Laura always said he was obvious when he was in love, that it made him dumb. “I - if the problem is with me, Cora is more than capable -” Cora has had to step in before, usually to deal with homophobes, not Derek’s stupid and ill-timed feelings, but —

"Oh my god, I’m doing this so wrong," Stiles groans, and he throws his hands up to cover his face.

"So wrong," Allison agrees. She pats Stiles sympathetically on the shoulder. “Derek, you’re doing a great job as our wedding planner -” and something in Derek’s chest eases the tiniest bit. “-But what Stiles is trying to say is that we want to date you.”

It takes Derek far longer to parse out that sentence than it should.

"What?”

"We want to date you, dude!" Stiles says, voice probably a decibel too loud for a coffeeshop. "When we met you, we liked you. A lot. And - I don’t know, we thought that was good, like… you were going to plan our wedding! We wanted to like you! Way better than crazy organza lady!"

"But we talk about you a lot," Allison says, blunt. "Way too often, and sort of -"

"Inappropriately," Stiles blurts out. "I mean, not like - okay kind of inappropriately. Like the drunk texting. We’re really attracted to you, dude."

Stiles’s face is flushed and Allison looks like she wants to smother herself.

"So we just," Allison took a moment to breathe in deeply. "We wanted to… ask you. And either way we thought - it probably wasn’t a good idea for you to still be our wedding planner."

"Uhm. That. Yes?"

Stiles and Allison flick a look between them, the kind of eery mind reading Derek almost only ever sees in couples.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I… shouldn’t be your wedding planner," Derek says slowly, because he probably should have taken care of that a month ago. Stiles’s face gets flushed, and Allison’s lips pull tight. "Because I want to date you too. The both of you. I-" Derek looks up at the ceiling, because putting his emotions into words is not his strong suit. "I really like you too."

There’s a long pause.

"Let’s go have sex," Stiles says, and Derek stops studying the water stain on the ceiling, the one that looks a little like a tree.

” _Przemek_ ,” Allison hisses. ”Stiles, seriously - “

"No, I mean it," he insists, "Let’s go! Let’s do this thing! We put the feelings on the table—!"

"I need lunch first," Derek surprises himself by saying, and from the looks of it surprises Allison and Stiles too. He can feel the smile on his face crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Then your place or mine?"


	2. Scott and Stiles bro-time

So we fired our wedding planner," Stiles says cheerfully, and grins because he can almost  _hear_ Scott's confusion through the phone.

"Derek?" Scott asks. His voice is crackly and rough, because satellite phones beaming up signals halfway around the world are kind of shit, as it turns out. "But you totally loved him! Allison totally loved him! She called him a grumpy bear and thought he had great taste in bouquets!"

"He does," Stiles says. "He is. He is totally the grumpiest bear, it's  _adorable._ "

Now the silence is judgmental. Ah, familiar territory. 

"Stiles.  _Why_ did you fire your wedding planer?"

"Because Allison and I are going to date him," Stiles says, blithely. "Also, I think we're going with the term 'let go,' saying we fired him sounds kind of harsh, considering."

More silence.

"Still there, buddy?" Stiles asks. He's not worried, exactly - god know Scott has seen him do a plethora of embarrassing and often terrible things, and Scott's judgment usually falls on the side of 'I'm going to support you to the very end of this idiocy,' but, well, you never know. 

"Processing," Scott says after a moment. "Does this - I mean, are you and Allison still getting married?"

"Oh, totally!" Stiles throws himself back onto the couch. "I love Allison. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, I know that. Regardless of how this whole thing with Derek works out." And Stiles  _really_ wants it to work out. "You're still my best man, dude, you're not wriggling out of that one."

Now Stiles is imagining Scott rolling his eyes. "Well  _that's_ what I was worried about."

"And you better throw me an  _amazing_ bachelor's party."

"Dude," now Scott did sound a little offended. "Are we not best friends? Are we not brothers from another mother? Do I not owe you my soul and first born for the college incident of which we do not speak?"

If Stiles smiled any harder, he was going to have to smother himself with a pillow. "Damn right I do."

Scott sighs, but its mainly affection, as far as Stiles can tell. "Look, I don't have much time left on the phone, and I still need to call mom. But keep me informed, okay? Supposedly I'll have internet in our next spot, and we can Skype. I want to hear all about this Derek person."

"You know all about Derek."

"I know all about Derek your  _wedding planner_. Not Derek your... boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend," Stiles says firmly. They'd talked about that one at length. "Definitely our boyfriend."

Another tiny judgmental pause. "You guys slept with him, didn't you."

"Well."

"I just talked to you  _last week."_

"I move fast, buddy, you know that."

"I'm hanging up on you now," Scott says, with his 'you've killed me I'm dead inside' voice, and Stiles nearly shrieks with laughter. "I'm calling my mother, and we'll talk aboutpilonidal cysts, and it will still be better than this conversation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FTR, I don't think Scott would be judgmental of Stiles and Allison's relationship with Derek, so much as what he initially thinks is Stiles being a dumbass.


	3. the Argents

Allison waits until both her parents have started eating before telling them anything. Dinner is a good time because they’re both foodies, as much as they profess to hate the word, and because Allison’s mother always does her best to keep the peace until the dessert course.

(Tonight is lemon meringue pie, topping perfectly browned, like something out of a magazine.)

“Stiles and I have decided to hire another wedding planner,” she says, and watches her mother pause in the midst of stabbing a mushroom with her fork. 

“Oh?” her dad asks. His tone is bland, but there’s something like a twinkle in his eye. “I thought you liked the one you had.”

“We did.  _Do_ ,” she corrects. “We liked him too much, really,” and boy, is that an understatement. “He’s already friends with Erica and Boyd and we really... we weren’t doing so well maintaining a professional relationship. He isn’t exactly hurting for business, and it’s early enough in the process that we can easily find another wedding planner, so. We did.”

“It sounds like you have it all under control,” her mom says. It sounds vaguely disapproving, but even praise sounds vaguely disapproving when it comes from her mother, so Allison rolls with it. 

She shrugs. “I just wanted to let you know, since you offered to pay for the rehearsal dinner.” 

“It was the least we could do,” her mother says, and the fact that he means it is sweet, though it’s lucky Stiles’s isn’t eating with them tonight. 

Allison figures she and Stiles fight like most couples: only occasionally, rarely seriously, and mostly about money, sex, and chores. The only truly terrible fight they’d ever had had been about the wedding, and who was going to pay for it. Allison’s parents had offered to pay for everything, full stop, and Stiles had freaked. 

For most of their relationship the differences between their family’s finances hadn’t been an issue. Allison’s parents had never really thrown their money around - a by-product of their almost spartan military upbringings, Allison sometimes thought -  and Stiles’s father made  _good_  money, certainly enough to support himself and his only child, but not enough to contribute to their wedding without feeling the pinch, or that Allison would have felt comfortable with.

Stiles had given Allison the silent treatment for nearly two days - Stiles!  _The silent treatment!_  - before they’d decided to cover the wedding themselves, and let Allison’s parents pay for the rehearsal dinner. Considering Allison’s pay came from Argent Inc., Allison wasn’t totally sure what the difference was, but at least it had been settled. Sometimes following Stiles’s mental gymnastics was beyond even her.

“And I  _am_ still doing the cake,” her mother continues. “You make sure the wedding planner is quite clear on that.”

“It’s at the top of the list,” Allison promises. Mostly, she want this part of be over so she can eat pasta. “Mom, you know no one around here could make one better than you anyway!” 

Her mother smiles for a moment, pleased at the compliment, and the rest of dinner is relatively quiet. 

Dessert is, as expected, delicious. 

* * *

 

“Babe,” Stiles had told her one night, pulling off his tie and throwing it into the back of the Jeep. “Your relationship with your parents is  _so weird.”_

It wasn’t that Allison hadn’t known that. Of course she’d  _known_  that, but hearing someone else confirm made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

Allison’s parents had been the only damn people she really knew growing up, moving around the way she had. They were only people she’d ever learned to count on, and while she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened, she knows she came to deeply resent them for it, even as much as she loved them. She’d resented the way they shuffled her around, the somewhat illogical and unfulfilled wish she’d had for at least a sibling to share in her misery. 

"My parents are weird,” she’d said, resigned, and Stiles had nodded emphatically.

* * *

 

It’s Allison and her father’s turn to clean up. Her mother, who doesn’t really understand the concept of leisure time, is looking over some contracts in one of the home offices while they do it. 

Allison busies herself with putting away the rest of the pie, with tossing the cloth napkins in the laundry basket. Her dad starts to wash the dishes. It’s nice. It’s calm. It’s quiet, relatively, the drip and hiss of the coffee machine, the muted clink of the plates and the cutlery. 

“You and Stiles doing alright?” her father asks. He passes her a plate, and she dries it dutifully. “This whole wedding planner thing.”

“We’re fine,” Allison says. “We’re as good as ever.” Maybe better. They’d rushed headlong into this thing with Derek, but it had seemed so simple. So  _clear_. She wasn’t enough of an optimist to think there wouldn’t be problems, but it had felt - honest. Even if she isn’t telling the whole story now.

“Well, good,” her father echoes. He looks at her for a moment, wet dish in hand.

Allison tries not to roll her eyes. Parents. “I’m going to head out before it gets too late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He makes a noise that isn’t quite a sigh. “Make sure to say goodbye to your mother.”

Like she’d dare to forget. “I will.”

“And let me know if you need anything.”

“I will!”

“You  _or_ Stiles,” he clarifies, gruffly, and that makes her smile. Back in high school, Stiles and her dad had gotten off to a rocky start. Whenever he was at the house, Stiles had been visibly nervous and on his best behavior, which had been more than enough for Allison’s mother. Not so much her dad. 

“Okay.” She leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, and he tilts his head down a fraction, still elbow-deep in soapy water, to meet her halfway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next bit will be Derek and maybe porn???? idk man here's hoping.

**Author's Note:**

> Is Meat! The Man Club for porn or steaks? ITS A MYSTERY.
> 
> I know pretty much nothing about wedding planning as a profession. I gleaned some of this from my experiences with (and secondhand bitching about) my sister’s wedding.


End file.
